Chapter 31
The nutrition show turns out to be an absolute blast. Stone picked the wrong episode to bail on, but he’s working hard on the security issues.
Sherwood Jones had us all in stitches as she took a bite of Cameron’s shrimp with creole sauce and made an outrageously horrified face. She swallowed and immediately gasped for water. For his part, Cameron took it all in stride.
To be honest, it feels like he barely tried during the nutritional cooking challenge. It was like he’d already decided he was going to lose, so he’d made up his mind to use the show to play off Sherwood in funny and companionable ways.
He did a great job. There was none of the usual tension during the show, but now that The Last Stand is upon us, the tone of the show has changed.
Yolanda’s dinner with me and her family plays on a television screen off to the side because that’s what the home audience is seeing right now. And not only the home audience—Sherwood has been glued to the screen.
“Thirty seconds,” a grip announces, and I stride over to The Last Stand setup.
Cameron and I face off over two round tables draped in a white cloth. The camera operator zeroes in on Sherwood watching Yolanda. We go live.
Sherwood wipes a tear from her eyes. “Yolanda,” she says, her voice catching as she speaks directly to Yolanda, who stands with the other contestants behind one of the cleared cooking stations. “Your family is beautiful. The way they support each other…” She puts a hand to her heart. “It’s wonderful to see. Not to mention, your sense of community and your fascination with healthy island foods. As someone born in the South, someone who also challenged herself to create healthy meals from the traditional foods I grew up with, I can say I’m a big fan. Maybe after all this is done”—she waves at the set—“we can have you on Food for Thought. I’d love to base a whole show on your nutritional cooking ideas.”
Yolanda looks speechless. The other contestants look… Well, like their smiles are going to crack and fall out tooth by tooth. Cameron just looks pissed, as if Yolanda is now stealing his Last Stand spotlight from him. Not good.
“I would love that, Sherwood,” Yolanda says, finding her footing. “And maybe we could have Cameron on. I think he deserves a second chance at cooking.”
I wonder if I’m the only person who sees how hard Yolanda works to make things fair, even when Parker would play it otherwise.
Sherwood’s dark, expressive eyebrows go up. “Oh, I’m not sure if I’d survive another one of his meals.”
Everyone laughs, even Cameron. “I promise to try harder,” he says.
“I know you’re about to try as hard as you can,” Sherwood continues, moving the show along, “as you and Easton attempt to build the food pyramids to end all food pyramids.”
“If only,” I mutter, but the mic picks it up.
“What’s that, Easton?” Sherwood asks, sauntering over to the two tables where Cameron and I are stationed.
I’ve got to remember to keep my comments to myself. “I said, if only, because I’m not a fan of the food pyramid.”
“Well…” Sherwood smiles. “That’s why you’re going to get a chance to create your very own food pyramid just the way you like it.” She waves a hand. “Bring ’em out, boys!”
The jaunty Food for Thought music plays through the speakers as the same two assistants who helped her judge the show, dressed in ridiculously tall chef hats and aprons, wheel out large clear boxes filled with… fruits and vegetables, cheese and eggs, grains, and meats.
Laughter follows the boxes until one is lined up with Cameron and one is lined up with me.
“Oh, wait,” Sherwood makes a show of grabbing two step stools. “You’re going to need these to make your pyramid reach to the heavens!”
Laughter erupts, because even when she says something not all that funny, her delivery is priceless. She places a stool near each of the boxes. To be honest, Cameron and I are tall enough that the pyramid will have to be fairly high for us to need those stools. Here’s hoping it won’t be necessary.
“The rules are simple,” Sherwood tells us. “Use what’s in the box—and be careful not to damage it, because the food is going to be used to create everyone’s breakfast tomorrow.” There’s a collective groan and she puts her hands on her hips. “Now, I know you all did not think I was going to waste this food.”
Chastised, everyone quiets down. “The man with the largest, uh”—Sherwood’s gaze sweeps over Cameron, then me—“pyramid wins this competition. But be careful. If any food drops on the ground, you have to eat it.”
My eyes pop out of my head. I’m not eating raw meat for anyone.
“Kidding.” Sherwood laughs at her own joke. “But you will be disqualified from the contest. It’s a sin to waste food, now, so don’t you drop it.
“On your marks,” Sherwood begins, and the two men who brought the boxes out rush over and drape yellow-and-blue Food for Thought aprons over us. “Get set.” They plop chef hats on our heads. “Go!”
A thousand-million sloppy and excruciating moments later—yes, I needed the stepstool and almost fell ass over teakettle into the box when I went too fast—I’m placing the last strawberry on the top of my pyramid.
“Time!” Sherwood calls.
Fuck. My strawberry rolls down the side of my pyramid. I hold my breath as it’s caught by the meat base I made. It doesn’t drop. It’s all about a good base, friends.
I climb down from the stepstool. Cameron and I step away from our pyramids. His face is red and sweat drips down the side. I have no doubt my face looks similar.
“Well now.” Sherwood saunters over to me. “That’s a mighty impressive tower you have there, Easton.”
This woman deserves every dime she is paid. She’s hysterical. She eyeballs the designs. “Got a lot of meat down there. Doesn’t seem so healthy.”
I can’t hold back my smile. “Honestly, Sherwood, I’d started out with this great idea to make my pyramid into something that would represent what I thought the food pyramid should look like, but that quickly changed when I realized meat is heavy.”
Sherwood eyes grow wide. “Don’t I know it.”
I snort as she moves over to Cameron’s pyramid. She chats with him for a few minutes while I’m busy trying to determine if his “tower” is bigger than mine. Not gonna lie, that would suck.
“Boys,” she calls, and her assistants come running to her side. “I’m going to need a tape measure.”
The men each pull tape measures from their large chef’s hats. One of them rushes over to Cameron, the other to me. They both extend the tape measures and begin to hold them to mine and Cameron’s crotch.
I laugh my ass off.
“Oh my,” Sherwood says, waving frantically. “No. No. That’s not what I meant.” She pauses, puts a finger to her chin as if she’s thinking about it, then shakes herself. “Well, maybe later.” She points emphatically at the piles of food. “But, for now, let’s measure the height of the food pyramids.”
The men get to work, even bringing out ladders. They take a lot of care to measure and make sure there’s no unfair advantage, but, in the end, my pyramid is plain old bigger.
Cameron groans like he’s been shot, but Sherwood is so good that she even makes this into a delight. “Oh, Cameron, they didn’t tell you the worst part.” Her eyes are wide and apologetic. “Now you have to come and be on my show with Yolanda.”
He laughs and grins widely. The other contestants come over and offer Cameron a hug. Much to my surprise, he squeezes Yolanda tight, lifting her off her feet into a bear hug. It obviously didn’t escape his notice that she got him an invite onto Sherwood’s show. It’s not a million dollars, but it will be good for his business.
Still, the man needs to keep his hands to himself.
I go over and shake hands with Cameron, who jokingly says, “Now I kind of wish we’d gone with that first measuring contest.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “No. You don’t.”
Sherwood smiles brightly, and I’m sure she’s going to make a joke, but she says, “Unfortunately, that’s all we have time for.” She throws an arm around Cameron’s waist. “We’ll miss you, big guy. Tune in Sunday to see Cameron’s best skills as the show features him, his prior routines, and his fitness club, LIFT, in New Orleans.”
There’s more clapping. She rubs her hands together. “And next week, the judges from Find A Way, a show that challenges super-fit detectives to MacGyver their way out of extreme escape rooms, to guest host for FTW’s creativity challenge.”
The contestants jump up and down at the announcement. Have to admit, if there was one challenge reality show I’d like to go on, it’s Find A Way. I once saw contestants create a ladder entirely out of their teammates so they could escape an earthen pit and win against the other team. Of course, we won’t have escape rooms on our show. Contestants will each have to devise their own kind of routine, one that is creative in a whole new way. I’m looking forward to what they come up with.
“We’re clear,” the show grip announces as the show ends. I shake Cameron’s hand one more time. Relief washes down my body.
Nothing went wrong.
No threats to Yolanda, no accidents. Maybe I can start to relax.